


Heavy in Our Hearts

by MapleTreeway



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Drama, M/M, angst like whoa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 12:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3977662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleTreeway/pseuds/MapleTreeway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I love you” was never an easy statement to make. Instead of feeling like a blessing, the words seemed to condemn. A darkness that both Thranduil and Bard knew was terrible, but could never get rid of. Because “I love you” carried so many emotions, but love was not one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavy in Our Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Because I listen to too much Florence + the Machine and I’m procrastinating on so many things it’s unreal. Part 1 of 3

They both loved one another, that much was clear. But they've never said as much. At least not verbally. Physically, yes. Bard would take every opportunity to show Thranduil how much he loved him; and vice versa. They’d give each other gifts, made each other smile, kissed one another with deep passion. 

However the “I love you”’s were all but non-existent, and both would be lying if they said they wanted it to change.

Once or twice Bard had come close - so _close_ \- to saying it. During a moonlit walk or post-sex pillow talk or when he saw Thranduil bond with his children. But one look on the Elvenking’s face and he had kept his mouth shut. Which was good - fine, really - because if he was being honest, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to say those three words.

They sat on his tongue uncomfortably. Heavy and leaden, the King of Dale couldn’t seem to toss them out. No matter how much he mouthed them in private or thought them over and over in his mind; to verbally say them was impossible.

So it was with a semi-guilty conscience that he fell asleep next to his lover every night. One arm hooked under his feather pillow and the other strewn over the elf’s chest. Sometimes, he'd think of his wife.

\------

“Thran, I...”

“You?”

“I...oh never mind.”

“No, tell me.”

“I lo - I liked how you didn’t cave in to Dain’s unreasonable demands.”

\------

To Thranduil, the words got stuck in his throat. Choking him. It had been centuries since he had allowed himself to lo - _care for_ \- another person. Because Bard...Bard was worth it. He deserved to be cared for by someone, rather than looking after someone. He deserved all the kisses in the world, all the silly romantic things humans did to each other. Bard deserved to be happy. And Thranduil wanted nothing more than to be the person who made him smile.

But all the touches - they _burned._ All the kisses scorched his lips; all the held hands scalded his palms. In his stomach sat embers that threatened to consume him. Being with someone wasn’t as he had remembered it was. It wasn’t this much a mess.

With his wife, Thranduil could say “Le melin” without qualms. Freely and with joy, he’d exclaim it nearly every day to her. And she would laugh, blue eyes brightening, and tug him down for a kiss. Her lips were soft, her hands carding through his hair. The touches didn’t burn nor hurt; the touches were electric in all the right ways. They made his stomach leap and left his head dizzy. He was on this high that ended only when - 

No. What he had with Bard was different than what he had with his late wife.

\------

“Bard, l -”

“What’s the matter?”

“Why would anything be the matter?”

“You look like you tasted a sour grape.”

“...Oh.”

“You weren’t going to tell me something unpleasant, were you?”

“No! No not at all...”


End file.
